CHAPTER TWO
A Picture Tells a Thousand Words
Savannah
New Orleans, Louisiana
Morning, Beautiful.
I’d tried and failed to curb the sickly sweet, head over heels, hearts in my eyes, hopelessly devoted smile that seemed permanently plastered across my face as I stared at the text Pope had sent me that morning.
At least sixty times, I’d picked up my phone and stared at the little text bubble. Also, in the four hours since the chime that I’d painstakingly selected for him sounded, it had nearly cost the life of my beloved pig.
Since my perpetually neurotic sister insisted on dragging me to work with her at the butt crack of dawn, I’d been trying to find something appropriate to wear to work without opening my eyes. Grabbing the first shirt I’d found, I had one arm through the neck hole and the other through the sleeve when I’d cursed and jerked it off, throwing it blindly onto the laundry pile on my floor. Pope’s distinct text tone sounded over Kevin Junior Bacon Cheeseburger’s snoring, and I spun in the direction of the noise. However, even though I was still half-asleep, I couldn’t see anything through the fabric stretched to near suffocation over my face.
Doing my best impression of a catfighting their way out of a paper bag, I tried desperately to disentangle myself from the tentacles of polyester holding me captive. I took a few stumbling steps, but before I could clear the three feet to my bed and the milk crate I used for a nightstand, my foot collided with something solid. White, hot pain radiated from my baby toe all the way up my leg and wrenched an unladylike cry from my throat followed by a string of nonsensical curses that would make Babs proud.
Swearing and battling with the python grip of my blouse, I blindly hopped around on one foot. Due to my lack of housekeeping skills, I landed on a rogue item of clothing, causing my foot to slip on the hardwood floor. My body pitched forward, and my entire life of poor decisions flashed before my eyes as I fell helplessly into the darkness to what was certainly my death. Instead of careening into the abyss, I landed awkwardly on my bed, my elbow sinking into a blanket covered lump.
As soon as I landed, a squeal of epic proportions pierced the air. I quickly rolled over as I realized I’d inadvertently body slammed Kevin. Because my shirt still blindfolded me, I failed to see the bed had ended, and I crashed to the floor, gracefully catching myself with my face.
Once I caught my breath and managed to wrestle off the article of clothing, I tentatively sat up. As soon as my head cleared the bed, the smell and taste of rotten ass smacked me in the face like a bitch with a bad attitude. I peeked over the mess of blankets to see that, yes, I had indeed scared the literal shit out of my pet pig.
The slam of the office door pulled me out of my reminiscence just in time to see Zep clomp his way into view. Addie was away, meeting with a new distributor, and I wasn’t sure he’d even noticed me sunk low in my desk chair. I’d had about enough of his brooding ass. He and Addie had been banging around each other all week, and not in the fun way.
Addie had failed miserably at convincing me that she’d had a wild one night stand with some random she’d met at the bar. Yeah, right. Even if I hadn’t noticed Zep’s truck barreling out of the neighborhood that fateful morning, I would’ve known the minute I saw them in the same room together that they’d bumped uglies. The satisfaction and regret painted all over their faces said it all. Addie’s twitchy panic gave her the ‘Uh oh, I accidentally tripped and fell on the dick of the man I’ve been in love with for the better part of two decades’ look.
I was done walking on eggshells. Kicking my booted feet off the desk, I rolled over to the filing cabinet where Zep was angrily sifting through files.
"What the fuck, dude?"
Startled, he spun around to face me. "Shit, Sav, I didn't know anyone was here."
Yeah, genius. Why would anyone be in the office at noon on a Thursday?
I crossed my arms and arched a brow. "You want to explain why you've been acting like a fucking cave man all week?"
"I don't want to talk about it." Zep grunted and turned back to the cabinet.
I scoffed at his lame attempt to end the conversation.
No dice, bro.
"That was a rhetorical question."
He looked over his shoulder at me, and his brows slammed together in confusion. "Do you even know what rhetorical means?"
I waved off his insult. I was making a point, and he wasn't going to distract me. "You fucked my sister."
Zep’s body froze, and he slowly turned all the way around until we faced off. I couldn’t tell if it was anger or incredulity shining in his eyes. "She told you?"
Easy as taking candy from a baby.
"No but you just did and let me guess, she didn't fall at your feet and worship you, did she? So now you're being a little Mitch because you got your feelers hurt. Am I right?"
A flush crept up his cheeks from his beard, and I had to stifle a laugh. Zephrin LaBlanc was actually blushing. If I didn't already have an agenda, I'd have stopped to rag on him endlessly for that one.
Seeming to pull himself together, he straightened his shoulders and pinned me with a look. “What the hell is a Mitch?"
“A man bitch,” I stated succinctly.
Zep rolled his eyes. "Classy, Sav. My feelers are intact, thank you for your concern. I'm just pissed that she can't figure out what she fucking wants.
“Ugh,” I groaned and slouched down in my desk chair. “Yes, because you've been so open and honest with your feelings. Seriously, you two are fucking killing me!”
"I’m not having this conversation with you."
"Fine, just listen then. My sister is scared. Her heart was pulverized over the last ten years so be gentle with her. Do all of us a favor and lay it all out. Tell her how you really feel, none of this tip-toeing shit. It’ll save us from having to buy new office furniture," I said, staring at the brand-new filing cabinet he'd been beating to shit since they’d done the deed.
"Don't you have your own relationship to worry about?"
"Pope and I are great, thanks for asking. But we're not talking about me. We’re talking about you and my sister and your epically fucked up relationship.”
Zep pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “I know you mean well, Savannah, but do me a favor and stay the hell out of it.”
“She’s my sister.”
“And we’re both fucking adults. I’m serious, Sav. Mind your own business.” Slamming the drawer, he stalked out of the office.
“What do you think, Kevin? Should we stay out of it?”
Kevin gave an almost inaudible snort from his nest of blankets under my desk.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so. It’s for their own good, really.”
***
“Y’ello?”
I breathed a sigh of relief hearing Babs’ crackly voice coming through the line. “I need your help.”
The desperation in my voice must’ve been evident because, after a brief pause, Babs asked, “You need help hide body? I call Bam-Bam. He strong.”
“What? God, no.”
“Bam-Bam keep good secrets. Cold water with soap for blood,” she continued.
I knew my grandmother was as ride or die as you get, but it was a little unsettling knowing she may have had experience covering up a murder.
“Gators eat everything,” she added.
“Babs, I didn’t kill anyone!”
“Then why you call?”
“Because I’m trying to make gumbo, and I think I fucked it up.”
Babs’ smokers laugh echoed in my ears. “So, you trying to kill someone?”
“My cooking isn’t that bad.” Kevin responded with a loud snort and a nudge to the back of my leg. “Oh, shut the fuck up, you asshole.”
“Say again?”
Shit.
“Not you, the pig. For real, Babs, I need your help.”
“Why you try to cook? Addie not there?”
“I’m trying to surprise Pope,” I admitted, feeling yet another failure coming on. Pushing away from the counter, I buried my hands in my hair. After a week of text messages and opposite work schedules, I’d been dying to get some alone time with Pope. I’d thought that moving to New Orleans would mean I’d get to see my boyfriend any time I wanted. What I hadn’t factored in was the fact that he was a beat cop in one of the most popular tourist destinations in the country. Since he just got the transfer to NOLA-PD, he was stuck working the most undesirable shifts.
“You want to surprise him use sex, not poison.”
“Well, you’ve been a wealth of help, thanks so much.”
Babs sighed, “All right, you make old lady guilty. I help. I get more vodka first.”
I looked at the explosion of crap littering the kitchen island as I listened to the sounds of Babs hunting the house for one of her hidden bottles of vodka. Unlike every other female in my family, my culinary skills were less than stellar. My history in the kitchen was limited to canned soups and frozen pizza.
My relationship with Pope was in a delicate place. Officially, we'd only been an item for a few months, but our relationship felt more real than anything I'd ever experienced. The only problem seemed to be time. There wasn't enough of it, and while I was eager to move our relationship forward, Pope seemed to be at ease with taking it day by day. Normally, his behavior wouldn't bother me, but I couldn't help the feeling that he held back. When we were together, we'd spend hours lying awake at night talking about everything under the stars while simultaneously not talking about anything of real consequence.
I craved more. I was starved for any morsel of information he'd let slip, but after almost three months, I still only knew the basics about his family and his life before I came barreling into it. Even though I knew he'd grown up in New Orleans, and his family still lived in the city, somewhere he'd artfully avoided going into detail about them every time I'd tried to bring it up.
The overly neurotic part of my brain that I’d inherited from the Dubois gene pool had lain dormant most of my life. However, with Pope’s secrecy, it reared its ugly head and whispered evil things into my subconscious. What if Pope didn't take me seriously? What if somehow, due to the way we met, my over the top personality, and crazy ass family, he thought we were just having a fling? What if he was embarrassed by me? A litany of 'what if's' bombarded my thoughts and only grew louder the longer we were apart.
While I realized it was unhealthy, I found myself wanting to prove to Pope that I was in his league. He needed to know I'd shed my wanderlust ways and wanted something real.
"Ah, okay I ready," Babs said finally. I heard the creak of her old rocking chair over the line as she settled into her spot on the front porch.
Always the front porch.
It seemed fitting. The front porch of my grandparent’s house was the pinnacle of every major event in the lives of the Dubois women, after all.
"Okay, how the fuck am I supposed to cook gator sausage?"
Babs laughed so hard she started hacking up a lung. She didn't stop laughing the entire time she walked me through cooking a Louisiana staple that, in her words, 'should be natural like wrestling a gator.'
An hour, three band aids, one burn, and a few tears later, I had a giant pot of something that resembled vomit bubbling on the stove. At least it didn't smell like vomit. In fact, Babs had done me right because it actually smelled good. I checked the clock and noted that Pope would be home in less than a half an hour. With the cornbread in the oven, and the gumbo simmering away, I set to work cleaning up the disaster I’d made of his kitchen.
My housekeeping skills were about as honed as my cooking. Mama’s ‘clean as you go’ advice echoed in my ears as I hastily wiped down the counters.
Whatever the fuck that meant.
There were so many steps to the recipe Babs had given me,; I didn’t remember half of what I’d done to get it all in the same damn pot, let alone managed to clean anything in between. Lost in my head and not paying attention, I swiped a huge pile of vegetable scraps onto the floor instead of into my hand.
“Motherfucker! Kevin!” I called out, looking for my living garbage disposal.
Nothing.
“Kevin, food!” I hollered, louder this time.
More nothing.
What the fuck?
Abandoning my station in the wreckage of my culinary expertise, I searched the house, hoping Kevin hadn’t decided to take a shit in a pair of Pope’s shoes. I followed the sounds of his snorts down the hallway and into the bedroom. Dropping to my knees, I peeked under the bed.
Nada.
“Kevin! Where are you?” I could hear him, but I couldn’t see him, which was by far more terrifying. After coming up empty in the bathroom, I found him nestled in a pile of dirty clothes in the closet, gnawing on something I couldn’t immediately identify.
“What the fuck, Kev?”
It took me a minute, but I eventually wrestled a picture out of his mouth.
"I swear, one of these days you're going to eat the wrong thing and fucking explode like a damn pork bomb."
I wiped the slobber from the picture and tried to smooth out the wrinkles but stopped short when I saw the image. It was Pope, dressed in a tux, standing in a garden with a beautiful girl in a white dress. I froze.
As I examined the photo closer, it was obvious it was old. Pope's face was fuller, his features less chiseled, but he had the same build and looked to be around twenty years old. It was a professional photo, like the kind of picture you'd have taken at a wedding.
A really expensive wedding, not like the backyard cookout receptions we had where I came from.
He had a whole life before you that he won't tell you about.
My stomach soured at the thought, and the 'what if's' came flooding back full force.
What if I'd given my heart to a man who wasn't who I thought he was?
***
No amount of logic or reason could stop my mind from not just jumping, but catapulting to conclusions. Like some bizarre case of Bodysnatchers, my hippie bohemian personality had been hijacked and replaced with that of a reality star who was constantly trying to catch her boyfriend in a lie. Instead of thinking of fun date ideas I daydreamed about whether Pope told me the names of his childhood pet and first-grade teacher so I could break into his email account.
“Oh, hey, Pope! So, I wanted to surprise you with dinner, and I brought Kevin with me because you know he goes with me everywhere…" No, that's stupid. "Hey, Pope, how was your day? Mine was good. I wanted to surprise you with dinner, but I noticed that Kevin had wondered off, so I went to find him, and he had this. I was just curious what it was…" Ugh, too crazy. I took a deep breath, shook my hands, and continued pacing. I felt like an MMA fighter preparing to enter the Octagon.
“You can do this Savvy. Just don't act like a lunatic. Suppress all of that inner Dubois crazy and just pack it on down. You're capable of acting like a decent, rational human being. You found a picture, just a piece of paper with an image printed on it, not a body. You have no idea where or when it’s from; there's no reason to jump to conclusions. Casually bring it up, slip it into the conversation. Maybe I should wait till after dinner? But what if he thinks that I sat on it and then waited for an opportunity to catch him in an ‘I gotcha’ moment? Shit, what am I going to do?” I groaned in frustration and buried my hands in my wild hair. “Maybe I should just ignore it and see if he'll just tell me in time. No, I can't do that, it’ll drive me nuts, don’t you think, Kevin? Annnnd now I'm talking to a fucking pig. Oh my God!” I covered my face with my hands, the stress and anxiety becoming too much. “I'm really losing my shit.”
“Why are you losing your shit?” Pope’s deep baritone came from behind me. I spun around, my heart racing like a crack head on speed.
Oh, God. Oh God. Oh, God. Oh, God!
How much had he heard? Shit, did he hear me talking to Kevin like he was a fucking person? I tried not to do that in front of people. It took crazy cat lady to a whole new level.
We were standing there in the middle of the living room staring at one another and not saying anything. The cogs in my brain had just seized, and the lights behind my eyes had gone out. Nope, no one was home. I tried desperately to will an explanation to come, but no such luck. Instead, my mouth started moving without permission from my temporarily frozen mind.
“I wasn't snooping,” I blurted out. “I was not snooping. It's just that Kevin was missing and I had to look for him and then I found him in your closet. I thought he'd shit in your shoes, but he didn't, and he had this picture in his mouth. He was slobbering all over it, so I had to wrestle it out of his mouth. Then there was slobber all over it, so I had to wipe it off. I looked at it to see if it was damaged and then I saw this.” I took a breath and wished that the floor would open and swallow me whole.
After having this conversation in my head and out loud at least a dozen times I had blurted it out like a fucking psycho. Now Pope would think I was just as insane as the rest of my damn family, the exact thing I wanted to avoid. I wouldn’t be surprised if he looked for a little mini- Pope voodoo doll in my bag. I’d just raised the psycho girlfriend meter to 'might have a shrine in her closet with a lock of your pubes and nail clippings that she prays to every night.'
I didn't want to be one of those crazy girlfriends that cyber stalked her boyfriend and searched his apartment while he was gone. That wasn't who I was. I was carefree. I was a 'go with the flow' kind of girl. I didn't spend hours trying to decode my boyfriend’s pin number on his phone so that I could search through his messages, emails, and social media. I was the 'live and let live' type; the girlfriend who was just one of the guys, but for some reason, Pope made me act like a goddamn mental patient.
“Babe, what are you talking about?” Pope asked taking a step closer.
I kept my lips pressed firmly together, not willing to risk blurting out another tirade of nonsense. I shoved the picture at him. A look of concern painted his features as he took the picture, not breaking eye contact. He looked down, and his eyebrows shot straight up when he recognized what I’d seen. Panic flashed in his eyes when he looked back up to me.
“Oh, God, it's not what you think,” he started. I remained silent, still not trusting my mouth to behave. When I didn't say anything, he continued. “This was from when I was in high school. It was just a party. Like a social thing for this girl I went to school with, it really wasn't a big deal.”
“Oh,” I said, my voice quiet. “I wasn't sure.”
“Yeah, nothing to worry about. I don't have some secret wife somewhere. It was just like a prom thing, no big deal.”
No big deal.
My anxiety levels and blood pressure were through the roof, but it was no big deal. If it was so inconsequential, why had he kept it?
“Of course,” I said instead, feigning an ease that I didn't feel. “Like I said, Kevin got into some of your shit, and I was just curious.”
“Right. So, not that I'm not happy to see you, but did we have plans tonight?”
I put on a smile. “No, we didn't have plans, but I thought I'd surprise you. I made dinner.”
Pope looked taken aback. “You made dinner for me?”
“Yeah, I used to Babs’ recipe. I had to call her and have her walk me through it, but I think it turned out okay.”
His answering smile was the mega-watt one. Dimples were full-on display and blue eyes danced with his white teeth shining like a fucking toothpaste commercial. “That’s fantastic; I'm starved.” He placed a kiss on my forehead before moving down the hall to drop off his bag.
The entire conversation lasted all of five minutes, but I couldn't help but wish I had a rewind button. I wasn't exactly sure what we'd resolved. My nose tingled and my eyes pricked with unshed tears. With a deep breath, I willed the tears away. I wasn't going to turn into a weepy mess.
Pope said there was nothing to the picture, and he hadn’t given me a reason not to trust him. I had to have faith that in time, Pope would feel comfortable enough to open up to me about his past. We were still in the early stages of our relationship; I couldn't expect him to bare his soul to me without getting to know me first.
Could I?
The awkwardness extended to dinner. The gumbo was surprisingly good. The cornbread burnt on the edges, but it remained edible. I was rather impressed that I hadn’t completely fucked up the meal. I searched desperately to find a safety topic to talk about, finding myself drifting into a daydream as Pope recounted one of his calls from his shift. He seemed into the story, but I couldn’t bring myself to feign interest. I cleared the table as soon as we finish eating, desperate to get away from the painful conversation.
I felt Pope’s arms snake around my waist as I loaded the dishwasher. He nuzzled his nose into my neck and kissed me be just below the ear.
“What's the matter?” he murmured. “You seem tense.”
“I'm fine,” I said quietly, gathering the silverware from the sink. I was anything but fine. I had become one of those women that I hated. One that wouldn't tell her partner what she was thinking or feeling, just expecting them to guess.
“Are you still on the thing about the picture? Because I told you it was nothing.”
It was the absolute wrong thing to say.
Turning around slowly, I took a step back from him. “Am I on the picture thing?” I repeated his words deliberately, trying to get my brain to wrap around what he’d just said and how he’d said it. It was if all my worry and stress was somehow inconsequential just because he said so. Because he told me it was no big deal meant I was supposed to accept it.
I don't think so.
“I told you it was nothing, why can't you just trust me and drop it?”
That did it. That flipped my bitch switch so fast my head was spinning.
“Why can't I just trust you? How about because I don't even know you, Pope. You refuse to tell me about your family or introduce me to your friends. I know nothing about your past except that you always wanted to be a police officer. You've kept me completely closed out when I've done nothing but open all my closets, floorboards, and attics to show you every skeleton I have. What am I supposed to think when I find a picture of my boyfriend, who has avoided telling me anything about his past, with a woman in a wedding dress?”
Pope scrubbed a hand down his face. “It wasn’t a wedding dress!”
“That’s not the point!” I winced at the shrill tone of my voice. I hated fighting.
“Where are you going?” Pope called out, following me into the living room.
I clipped in Kevin’s leash and got my jacket and messenger bag before turning to face him again. “I’m going home,” I said with a calm that I didn’t feel.
“So that’s it? You're just going to leave? Don’t you think we should talk this out?”
I sighed and avoided looking him in the eyes. It was too painful. “No, I don’t. I think if I stay one or both of us will end up saying something we regret.”
“Wait, are you breaking up with me?”
I felt his words like a physical pain. “Of course not. I’m just going home. We can talk in a few days when we’ve both had a chance to cool down.”
“You seem pretty cool now…”
This fucker wants to die.
“Trust me, I’m not,” I growled, bending to scoop Kevin from the couch. Pope trailed me to the front door and leaned in for an awkward hug. I allowed it but quickly maneuvered out of his grasp and down the walkway to my truck.
I made the mistake of looking back at Pope standing in the doorway, his usually expressive face completely blank. A little piece of my heart broke, seeing him like that. I drove off, the evening not at all ending as I'd hoped. I felt like I'd taken two steps forward just to end up right back where I started; driving down the highway alone, with just my pig for company.
***
Wildflowers.
Not just one little bundle. No, Pope would never half-ass something like that. I’d counted seven giant mason jars filled to capacity with bouquets of bright wildflowers placed neatly on my desk.
They weren't roses or lilies; they were a riot of color and chaos. Just like me.
He'd listened.
I moved to my desk and picked up the card propped against the makeshift center vase. Even those were perfectly me.
My hands shook a little as I opened the card, slightly afraid of what was inside.
Savannah,
I've thought of a million ways to tell you I'm sorry over the past two days, but none of them seemed sufficient. I've never been what you'd call an open book. It just wasn't the way I was brought up, but of course, you wouldn't know that because I never told you. I understand now that I hurt you and bruised your trust by withholding that part of me, and I'm sorry. I promise to let you in. It will take time, but we'll get there if you can just be patient with me.
Quentin
My heart skipped a beat as I trailed my fingers over the letters of his real name. He'd told me he went by his last name, Pope, the first time we'd met and that's all I'd ever called him. Seeing his first name scrawled across the bottom of the card did something to my insides.
I had to give it to him, Quentin Pope knew how to do apologies. How could I say no?
The front door to the office banged open, and Bam-Bam strolled in. He took one look at my desk and let out a long whistle.
"Oooo-Eee! Someone messed up bad. What'd the little donut eater do?"
I rolled my eyes. "Nothing, we had a little fight, no big deal."
Bam-Bam fell into Addie's empty desk chair with a huff.
"I ain't buyin' what you're sellin', little one. When a woman says things like fine, whatever, or no big deal," he said, ticking each one off on his fingers, "you better believe the opposite is true. Now tell your favorite cousin what's really goin' on."
How was it that my big, backwoods bred, lug of a cousin knew all that, but Pope was clueless?
I shrugged. "He hasn't exactly been forthcoming with his past."
"What's that supposed to mean? He's a cop ain't he? Can't be anything too bad. Unless of course, you ain't talkin' 'bout spendin' a night in jail. He steppin' out on you?" He squeezed his hands into fists, making his knuckles crack and his point clear. Cop or not, if Pope did me dirty, Bam-Bam had every intention of doling out his own justice.
"No, nothing like that,” I rushed to assure him before he started to Hulk out. “He won't talk to me about his family or friends or his childhood. We've been together for months, and he's never even introduced me to anyone in his life. It’s like he's keeping me separate from his real life."
Bam-Bam squinted at me and leaned so far back in the desk chair I thought it might break in half. Just when I thought he wasn't going to respond, he cleared his throat.
"Sounds to me like it might not be you he's hidin'. Not everyone's life growin' up was roses and cupcakes, little one."
I closed my eyes, realizing of course, that he was right.
"Chew on that 'fore you go sellin' him up river, yeah?"
I nodded and gave him a half smile. "When did you get so smart?"
He shook his head and stood up. "I ain't no scholar. I just know people. Met a lot of different kinds over the years. You never know someone's story until they give it to you. Some of 'em just take a little longer to tell, that's all."
"Thank you, I needed to hear that."
"I suppose you did. Glad I could help," he said, coming over to ruffle my hair.
As he moved to leave, I caught his arm. "Hey, what'd you come in for?"
He looked confused for a second before cracking a goofy grin. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot. I broke an anchor. I came her to let Ads know we needed another."
"You broke an anchor? How the hell did you manage that?"
He chuckled. "Just pulled too hard, I guess."
If anyone else had said it, I'd have called bullshit. But I'd seen my cousin rip a tree clean out of the ground because it was in his way. It was a small tree, but he still did it without breaking a sweat. He was like a Hillbilly Hercules.
"She made me do inventory in the warehouse last week. I'm pretty sure there's one in there. I'll make sure she knows we need to order a new backup."
"Thanks, 'cuz, you're the best. I don't care what they say about you."
"Yeah, yeah. Now get back to work. And no more breaking shit! You've reached your quota for the month!"
"You got it, boss," he called over his shoulder with a wave.
I flipped my phone over in my hand while I stared at the flowers. Bam Bam was right, I should try to see things from his perspective. I took a picture of the flowers and typed out a quick message.
Me: Thank you for the flowers, they’re beautiful. I’m sorry for overreacting.
Pope: You didn’t overreact. I’m sorry for not being more upfront.
Me: I guess we both kinda suck at this, huh?
Pope: We'll figure it out eventually.
Me: I hope so
Pope: Listen, my parter is having a BBQ at his house Monday around 5, would you want to come?
Me: Your partner?????
Pope: Jesus, the fellow officer that I ride around with day in and day out. The person I've told you countless stories about?
Me: Oh right. Yeah I'd love to.
Pope: Okay I'll text you the address. I would come pick you up, but I'll have to leave straight from the precinct.
Me: That's fine, I can take the truck.
Pope: Sounds like a plan. I've gotta go, shift starts soon.
Me: Okay have a good night
Pope: You too, babe
I sighed. Like legitimately sighed out loud like a fucking Disney princess. It was the closest thing to a swoon as you could get. I was going to meet Pope’s friends. He was letting me in.
What the fuck was I going to wear?